


Silence

by phantomunmasked



Series: It's in the everyday ordinary that we see love [6]
Category: Major Crimes (TV), The Closer
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 11:46:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1265329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomunmasked/pseuds/phantomunmasked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Silence is a precious thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence

Andrea Hobbs was no stranger to silence. Hours of poring over legal texts in Harvard’s vast library had taught her not to fear it. She still loved it later on in life, even when it became symptomatic of the end of each and every failed romance she had (they’d all left, they said, because they couldn’t stand how Andrea could stay so _quiet_ for quite so long). It allowed her to think, allowed her to find herself and _stay_ herself. No one seemed to understand; no one seemed to crave the absolute, blank peace that silence could bring, especially in the endless chatter that was Los Angeles.

 

Until Sharon. Sharon _knew._ Sharon understood the value of words not said; it was in the way she held Andrea, in the way she allowed Andrea the quiet retreat into her own mind, content to wait in companionable silence until Andrea was ready to speak once more. And Andrea learnt, too, in time, to read Sharon’s own silences, learnt to recognise the tenor of her lover’s unspoken grief and weariness after a particularly trying case. Both of them grew to treasure the wordless communication that they had, relished this bond that settled so comfortably in their bones.

 

But it was the deep quiet of the dark hours just before dawn that they both loved best, for it was then that their silence sang clearest of their love for each other. It was in the soft affection in eyes green and blue, the calm brush of a thumb across a cheekbone, the quick, possessive squeeze of a hand on a naked hip. They needed no platitudes of love, for _their_ silence would always ring true.  


End file.
